


Weakened mind, body and soul.

by One_Real_Imonkey



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Angst, Exhaustion, Fake AH Crew, Fluff, Gavin Free-centric, Hacker Gavin Free, Hurt/Comfort, If you want - Freeform, Injury, Kidnapping, Multiple Endings, OT6, Whump, gavin needs to take a break, write your own ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-13
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-14 19:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21020750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/One_Real_Imonkey/pseuds/One_Real_Imonkey
Summary: Gavin is overworked, very overworked, but unlike usual, he's completely alone.It has dire consequences.This fic has 2 endings, Chapters 2 and 3 are these endings.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own.  
This is chapter one. I have 2 alternative endings that will be posted soon.  
Chapter 1 is set in stone, what happens after... that's up to us. I have 2, but I'd love prompts with your ideas, and if you want to write your own endings, please just remember to tag back to this for chapter 1. (don't take without permission/credit).  
Other than that, enjoy.

Gavin was absolutely fine. 

He had slept and eaten enough and wasn't overworked. 

It was a bit of a stretch of truths, but who needed to know. 

Not the crew. They were his family, but they were also relying on him. This was an important heist, it had to go off without a hitch, and currently there was a massive hitch called we don't have security access or camera access or enough info despite being twelve days away because these people have a decent hacker and we need them out of the way first and Gavin is only one person. 

He took a sip of his coffee to find it was cold. He knocked it back anyway. The caffeine was far more important than the taste. The sandwich on the side tasted old, the lettuce was limp and the bread was dry. 

Hadn't Jack only brought that in a few minutes ago? 

Deciding he needed a short break, and another coffee, and maybe some red bull, he turned away from the computer and stretched. 

All his joints cracked and he nearly fell as his legs almost failed to hold his weight and spots jumped into his eyes. Stumbling, he found the blind he had closed when the light was shining on his screen and pulled it open to bask in the late evening sun, only to find the sky dark, with a glow growing in the east. 

It was morning? 

But the clock said six. It couldn't be six a.m. 

It was. He'd worked through the night and into morning and he was nowhere near done. It was one day closer to his deadline and he wasn't done. 

He almost decided to forgo the coffee, but he needed it. 

Still unsteady, and a little dizzy, he staggered out of his office and into the kitchenette. No-one else was up. 

First step: Coffee. 

He forwent the kettle, choosing instead the coffee pot, and pulled a can of red bull out of the fridge, taking a gulp. 

Step two: Food. 

He decided he wanted cereal, grabbed the first bowl and box he found and poured, before adding milk and a spoon. 

The coffee pot clicked to tell him it was done. He decided to take that rather than pouring one small drink. He had a mug in his room anyway. It would save him some trips. 

Finishing the can of red bull, he put the milk back into the fridge and pocketed another two. 

Then back to his room to work. He wouldn't let them down. 

Not after last time. 

. 

. 

. 

He reached for his mug only to realise it was empty. 

So was the coffee pot. 

And he was out of cans of energy drinks. 

But he also had access to their systems now. The hard part was over. He still probably had a few days to get all the info they needed now, so he wasn't going to waste time. 

Names, faces, dates, addresses. 

He had a long way to go. 

A few hours, or a day, later and the package was pretty much ready for Geoff. 

Sure, there was more info he could get, but this would be enough. Gav printed bits off and began to organise them, glad he didn't have to get up to reach the printer. Each file he created had the name of its contents on the front and they stacked slowly on his desk, security cameras from their targets base on the monitors flashing by slowly. There was a red light flashing in the corner but he dismissed it. He was far too tired to recall what it meant. 

His mouth was dry and his head was light and spinney. He felt like hell. 

In short, it was probably time to refuel his coffee and have a snack. 

He never made it out the room. 

. 

. 

. 

Ryan hadn't been at the penthouse for a week, and being home was a welcome relief. He'd missed his partners. If this went to plan it would be the take of a life time but it was putting a lot of strain on their relationship. Jack had joined him after a few days just to get away from the tension, dragging Jeremy with her to 'help' and not because he and Michael had almost come to blows. 

He couldn't wait for this to be over. 

It was about 3am so he and Jack were being quiet. Geoff and Michael were out at one of the other bases with B-team, and had been for a few days, and only Gavin was still in but he didn't want to wake the lad if he was sleeping. It wasn't fair. 

"Hey Jack?" Jeremy's voice was a hiss, "any idea where the red bull went?" 

"Or the coffee pot?" He added, breezing past Jeremy to put his stuff on the table. 

"I can't do anything about the coffee pot that the moment but if you want energy drinks go get them from the shops yourself. But are you really going to drink one of those before sleep?" 

Ryan laughed at Jack’s attitude. Evidently, she was as tired and clueless as the rest of them. She grabbed the stuff they'd collected to take to the conference room and Jeremy left the apartment grumbling. 

Ryan picked up his bags and went to their room, deciding he really wanted sleep, preferably with more than one of the people he loved. He was silent as he entered so to not wake Gavin, slipping into the en-suit bathroom to remove his face paint and change out of his clothes. He still had some things to do but he was sure they could wait until after a good night's sleep. He planned to creep over and slip under the covers of the massive bed, claiming one of the spots cuddled next to Gav, only to finally look over the bed and realise what was missing. 

Gavin wasn't in the bed. 

A bolt of panic flashed through him before he calmed himself. One the way in there had been no sign that the security alarms had been tripped and Gavin hadn't called for help or anything. He was probably fine. The Penthouse was well protected, even if Gavin was alone. Threats wouldn’t get to him, surely. 

If he wasn't in their room, he'd be in his office. 

He cursed to himself. Of course Gavin would be in his office. The lad was a workaholic, and time of day often meant nothing to him. He was probably passed out on the ratty sofa he refused to let them get rid of with security footage blinking by on the screens. Or he'd still be adding things to their files. Either way Ryan would pick him up and drag him to their bed with Jeremy and Jack and curl up for a few hours' sleep before they had to start working again. 

Honestly, Gavin had worse sleeping habits than him. 


	2. Ending 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One way this story could end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't own the franchise or characters, only the plot.  
Ending 1...

_Honestly, Gavin had worse sleeping habits than him._

Ryan swung the office door open to find the computers working as predicted and the files also as predicted but Gavin wasn't in his chair, or on the sofa. 

Gavin wasn’t in his office. Gavin wasn’t in their room. Gavin wasn’t in the kitchen, or the living room. 

Ryan wasn't sure he was even in the apartment. 

“Hey Jack?” he called out, wandering back into the living room with half-concealed panic. 

“Yeah?” 

“Did Gav message you to say he was going out?” 

“No. Why?” 

“He’s not here. I can’t find him.” 

He hadn’t received a message. Jack hadn’t either. Michael and Geoff had left, and he was sure they hadn’t taken Gavin with them. 

They called anyway, hoping they were wrong. 

. 

. 

. 

Jeremy was grumbling by the time he made it back to the penthouse. The closest shop was closed. The next closest to the penthouse was in the opposite direction. The closest to him was 10 minutes away. 

Then the guy in the shop was incompetent. Then, when he finally had the red bull, he made his way back home, which was a 15-minute walk. 

He wanted to sleep; he was tired. He wanted to curl up with Gav and Jack and Ryan, who were probably already in bed, unlike him. He’d missed Gav most of all, having had Jack and Ryan to a degree. 

Jeremy was expecting to enter the Penthouse, dump his purchases, and crawl into bed with Jack and Ryan and Gavin. He was already bracing himself to fight for the right to be the one to curl around Gav, while the rather than being on the outside of the hug. 

He wasn’t expecting Jack, talking on her phone in a panic, and Ryan pacing behind her in his underwear. 

“He’s not with you?” 

He moved past them both to put the red bull away and waved to Ryan. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Gav’s missing. We were hoping he’d be with Geoff and Michael but it doesn’t look like he is and we don’t know where he is.” 

“Have you tried to text him? Or call him? He might be out, maybe at a shop.” 

From Ryan’s face, it hadn’t been thought of yet. 

Shaking his head, he drew his phone and pressed speed dial #5. 

His hope and smugness faded when ringing sounded from the office a few doors down from him. 

Gavin's office. 

They found it under a stack of papers, under the console with the blinking red light. 

An alarm had been tripped. 

. 

. 

. 

Gavin drifted in and out of consciousness. It was so hard to stay awake, so hard to stay afloat in this sea he just couldn’t pull himself out of. His veins were filled with lead and his mind was so fuzzy. 

He wanted his bed, his partners, his home. 

He wanted warm and safe and comfortable. 

He remembered passing out in his office. Waking up and getting to their bed. 

He couldn’t work out why he was lying on something cold and unyielding, with a bright something above him. 

He wanted to work it out, to find answers, but his mouth was dry, his throat scratchy, his body numbing. 

He fell under once again. 

. 

. 

. 

He smiled looking down at his captive. The Fakes’ Golden Boy. 

He wondered once again what Golden meant, because surely it was no athletic talent. 

They had been clever in watching the Fakes, knowing that being outwardly obvious would get them killed, they’d watched from the shadows for over a year, pretending to stick to their turf. Getting information is harder when you’re not pulling contacts, it requires patience, but the payoff is grand. 

The Fakes don’t know them, won’t suspect them, won’t have any information on them. 

They've been watching. 

They know the Golden Boy is the weak link. He doesn’t go into the field as a fighter. He goes to meets, always with bodyguards, and gets the information needed, so he was a sweet talker, and very persuasive without the violence or threats. A man with a golden tongue and golden fingers. He was allegedly their main source of information, the reason they kept him around, but this was information anyone could get. 

What they learned was far more valuable. They learned the Fakes were together. It took months to find out, seeing snatched kisses and overhearing private moments. 

From there the truth was easy to discover. What kind of person is kept in a crew, with no real criminal talent? What kind of person can get information without violence? Why would he be dressed in such expensive outfits, adorned with gold. 

A pretty boy. 

A Golden Boy. 

He wasn’t the Fakes’ informant; he was their stress relief. There to greet them after the heists, to reward their hard work, to warm their bed while they were gone. In return, they gifted him a life of luxury and their protection. 

It was so obvious. 

The most difficult part had been getting him. They'd had plans, but the Golden Boy almost never went anywhere alone, always with one of the crew as his bodyguard. It was easy to see the sugar baby of the FAHC was adored, and snatching him with them around would be near impossible. 

And then the Fakes left. They left their fancy Penthouse in the sky, two leaving one day, three leaving soon after. 

The Golden Boy was alone. 

It took a few days of contacts and pulling strings to find the Fakes would all be gone for 6 more days, and a few more to get a layout of their base, their window was small. 

His hacker, Rio, wormed her way into their systems, finding Goldie collapsed on the floor of one of the rooms. It was perfect. She reported in while they made their way there that he had woken, only to get himself to the main bedroom where he had passed out again in the bed. 

That was where they found him, fully clothed under the soft sheets, too tired to fight back. 

. 

. 

. 

Jack was terrified. Gavin was gone. Gone! 

Their security, their oh so advanced security had failed and now they were playing catchup with far more questions than answers. 

It hadn’t been hard to find out how long it had been since the alarm had been triggered, or which entrance they’d used. From there, they could use surveillance to find cars and from cars to bases and then Gavin. 

But Gavin was their tech guy. Gavin was the one with the skills in using surveillance, in finding cars and bases and people. 

She'd called Geoff and updated him, then made Ryan put some clothes on and sent Jeremy to pick up Matt. Matt ‘Axial’ Bragg was one of the B-team and very skilled at hacking compared to most. If they didn’t have Gav, they’d’ve thought he was one of the best. 

Geoff and Michael burst through the door about an hour after she called them. 

“What happened!” 

“What the hell is going on!” 

She raised a hand to quieten them, filled with a false sense of calm. 

“We know nothing yet, but the Penthouse was broken into and Gavin was taken. We have Matt trying to find them, Fiona, Lindsay, Alfredo and Trevor running down leads and B-team prepping to back us when we find him. Caleb is setting up, just in case.” 

“How did they get in? Our security is meant to be the best?” 

“I don’t know.” 

She sank into a chair, suddenly exhausted. It was Ryan who answered in her place. 

“It’s failed us before, if we weren’t paying attention, or if something went wrong. The difference is we’ve been there every time, with guns and knives and brutal efficiency. This time it was just Gavin, and from the looks of the files, a tired Gavin. We left him alone, unprotected.” 

. 

. 

. 

The call came in an hour later, not from Matt but from the crew that had dared attack them. 

A ransom video. 

“Hello Fakes, I hope you’re having a great day so far. We noticed you were out, but you left your bedwarmer behind.” 

There was on the screen a picture of Gavin, sprawled under the covers of their bed, dwarfed by its scale. 

Jeremy wasn’t the only one who growled in anger at the insult. 

“Course, he wasn't hard to subdue. He looked so peaceful in that large bed of yours. He didn’t put up a fight though, didn’t seem to have the energy too. Do you not let him eat when you’re not there or something?” 

God, Jeremy realised, Ryan was right. Gav must have been working so hard on collecting the data they wanted that he forgot to eat again, and without them there to force him to sleep or eat, he would have been weak as a kitten when their attackers got there. 

And then the screen went from the image to the masked face of their enemy and to the weary face of their boyfriend. 

Gavin was unconscious against the bonds, with bags under his eyes and sunken cheeks, newspaper for the date on his lap. 

He looked a few steps from death. 

“If you want him back, if your bedwarmer means that much to you, it’ll cost you. $250,000. We'll be in touch.” 

The video ended, leaving bloodlust in the hearts of every person in the room. 

And hope. 

A video could be traced, a video could be their only way to find Gavin. 

“How dare they?” Ryan screamed, “How dare they call him that? Do that?” 

“Those cocksuckers will burn,” Geoff yelled, “every last one of them.” 

“He looks so ill.” Jack murmured, anger not yet surfacing. It would, but later, when she had a target to take it out on. 

“Those sons of bitches!” Michael raged. 

He was stuck in shock, not yet able to yell. 

Gavin had made it to their bed in an exhausted state, desperate to sleep and rest, hopeful of their return, only to be taken. 

They wouldn’t let him out of their sight ever again. 

. 

. 

. 

Geoff barely had time to stress or worry because Matt found them the location within the hour. Fiona and Trevor met them a few blocks away from their enemy's hideout. Alfredo was getting into position with his rifle somewhere, ready to provide them aid from above. They were a force of nature, armoured up and full of pure bloodlust. 

Geoff led them into the base, pistol drawn. He killed three of the rival gang members as he burst down the door, knowing his crew was right behind him, weapons in hands, yearning for a fight. 

They got one. 

The other crew didn’t stand a chance, so he powered into the base, to the room they believed Gavin was in. 

The path was easy to clear, their rivals way over their heads. 

He was the first to see Gavin, the first to see their poor hacker slumped deathly pale in the chair he was bound to. 

“Oh fuck. Oh no please.” 

He almost threw his gun in his haste to check Gavin was alive. Fortunately, he had Jack and Ryan behind him, who subdued the room they were in with ease. 

The people in the room were kept alive, as were several members they’d isolated as key. They were all going to be rounded up and taken to a nice quiet place to suffer for what they had done. 

On his knees, he sobbed with relief at the pulse in Gavin’s neck, weak and faint and slow, but there. 

He could feel the concern of two of his parners behind him and let a smile filter through. 

“He’s alive. He’s alive.” 

The knife from his boot swiftly cut the bonds, allowing Gavin to fall into his grasp, scooping him up and allowing Fiona and the B-team to pick up their new hostages. 

He could feel their concern as they worked, and decided to make the news public to all on their Comm link. 

“Gavin is alive, but we need to get him to Caleb soon.” 

. 

. 

. 

It was hours before Caleb told them anything, and it was driving Michael mad. 

Finding Gavin had been hard, especially because he hadn’t actually seen Gavin yet, having been part of the group capturing their enemies rather than making the rescue. 

Geoff telling them he was alive was all well and good but he needed to see Gavin, touch him, know he was there and alive and ok. 

He'd had to join the group going to the warehouse, rather than Geoff and Jack going to Caleb, even if all they were doing at that point was restraining them. 

The man who made the video apparently decided it was worth it to mouth off. 

“Why go to all this trouble for your whore? What’s he really worth, besides keeping your bed warm for when you get home from heists?” 

Michael broke the man's nose, furious that he couldn’t do more before the order was given. 

For hours, he and Jack and Geoff and Ryan and Jeremy had been huddled together in the waiting room. 

The door swung open at last, with Caleb standing beyond it. 

Michael was amazed at how quickly they were on their feet. 

He was the first to ask whether Gavin was ok, although the others quickly mirrored him. 

“He’s going to be fine. He's mostly uninjured, save a few bruises and some rope burn. I'm most worried about the malnourishment, dehydration and exhaustion. He was not in a good way before they attacked. You have to stop him working like this, before he works himself to death. He came far too close this time.” 

Michael didn’t snap at him. He wanted to, but Caleb was an old friend, and a good one. 

Besides, they knew their mistake. More than they could say. 

They'd left Gavin alone, knowing he could work himself like this, and he’d almost lost his life from it. 

“I have him on several drips, and I'm keeping him here until his bloodwork and levels come back as normal. Go home, get some rest. He'll be safe here. Besides, you have prisoners to deal with and an empire to run, I'm sure.” 

. 

. 

. 

This time, Gavin woke in a warm bed, comforted in soft material. 

Caleb had released him the day before, but the lack of drips did not allow him to be freed from codling. 

His loves would not let him leave the bed, except to eat or lie on the sofa, not that he’d really had the chance yet. They almost never let him out of their sight. In fact, he realised, he could hear the pages of a book turning from inside the bedroom. 

Allowing himself to shift from his place in the centre of the bed, he cracked his eyes open and found Ryan, back against the headboard, glasses on and focused on his book. He allowed himself a small sleepy smile as Ryan noticed him awake. It was returned in kind as Ryan placed the book down, before the worry seeped back into his face. 

“Please, don’t do this to us again, Gav.” 

“M’sorry, didn’t think it was so bad. I got the info though." 

“You could’ve done that without the almost dying part, Gav.” 

“You think Geoff’ll still let me be part of the heist?” 

His eyes fluttered shut against his will and a hand made contact with his forehead, setting for a second, then running through his hair. 

“That's for later. Sleep now. You need it.” 

“It’s cold,” he lied, burying himself the sheets, eyes falling closed, “join me?” 

He heard the glasses being placed on the side, and Ryan abandoning his outer layers of clothes, before there was a waft of cold air replaced by a warm body that curled around him. He snuggled closer into Ryan’s chest and fell quickly asleep. 

When he woke there was another body behind him, and he was sure a few more on the rest of the bed. 

Feeling safe and content, he fell asleep again. 

. 

. 

. 

The police were called to the fire in the early hours of the morning. A cabin below Chiliad had exploded, and once the fire was controlled, the mangled bodies were clear to see. 

The rest of the Shotgun gang had now been found, after the earlier call to gunshots in the city had revealed the first half. 

Rookies lost their lunch, the veteran cops held themselves together, knowing this sight. 

Someone had crossed the Fake AH Crew. 

They had paid the price. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the endings, the other is coming soon.  
Any ideas would be cool, and if you want to write your own, just make sure to credit me.  
Hope you enjoyed.  
Please R+R.


	3. Ending 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The other ending to chapter 1.

Honestly, Gavin had worse sleeping habits than him. 

Ryan swung the office door open to find the computers working as predicted and the files also as predicted but Gavin wasn't in his chair, but he wasn’t on the sofa either. 

Gavin was on the floor. There was blood. 

Ryan panicked a little then. 

Gavin was lying in blood on the floor of his office and not awake and god he looked awful and Ryan wanted to call out but his voice was catching in his throat because how long had Gav been like this and he'd been away for days and so had Jack and Jeremy and Geoff and Michael and maybe Gav was dead and they hadn’t been able to do anything and... 

No, this wasn't how Gav would die. It couldn't be. 

Ryans fingers found their way to a pulse point and he felt the precious heartbeat he was looking for, and Gav's chest was clearly rising and falling. 

But he was pale and there was a lot of blood, the wound had clotted. How long had Gav been lying there? 

"Gav, you wanna wake up for me? Gav? Please?" 

There was nothing. Nothing at all. Medical stuff wasn't his area of expertise. 

"JACK! JACK!" 

They didn't need to be quiet any more. 

Jack didn’t complain about the volume, yell from another room with exasperation. She knew him well enough to know the absolute panic tinging his voice. 

Ryan felt more than saw her arrive, sprinting in from the other room. 

He heard her gasp clearly enough. 

She manoeuvred him aside to check on Gavin and he found himself leant back against the sofa, staring at the blood, shivering. 

“Ryan!” 

His eyes snapped up. 

“I need to check this properly, here isn’t good. I’m going to get the medical kit; I need you to get Gavin into the living room and onto the sofa.” 

He did as he was told, lifting Gavin up and cradling him as he made his way to the living room. He was fine in the field, so why did this shake him up so much? 

Because you're at home, his subconscious told him, and supposed to be safe. Gavin is supposed to be safe. 

They were never leaving him home alone again. 

Gavin didn’t stir as he was settled onto the settee. Nor as Jack began to clean out the wound. 

Ryan sunk into an arm chair, letting his thoughts run out of his control. 

What if they hadn't returned until tomorrow? 

What if Gavin had fallen the day pervious? 

What if someone had broken in? 

What if Gavin didn’t wake up? 

What if something was wrong when he did, brain injuries could be so fickle? 

What if...? 

What if...? 

What if...? 

“Ryan,” he looked up to see Jack had finished binding the room, “I need you to call Geoff and Michael, and to fill in Jeremy when he gets back. I’m going to call Caleb...” 

“Caleb?” 

“I think Gav needs extra fluids. I'm good at field medicine but I want a proper expert. I don’t want to risk it.” 

“Ok... ok.” 

“And Ryan?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Put some clothes on.” 

. 

. 

. 

Jeremy was grumbling by the time he made it back to the penthouse. The closest shop was closed. The next closest to the penthouse was in the opposite direction. The closest to him was 10 minutes away. 

Then the guy in the shop was incompetent. Then, when he finally had the red bull, he made his way back home, which was a 15-minute walk. 

He wanted to sleep; he was tired. He wanted to curl up with Gav and Jack and Ryan, who were probably already in bed, unlike him. He’d missed Gav most of all, having had Jack and Ryan to a degree. 

So, coming home to find Gavin on the sofa, pale and sickly with a bandage around his head, was not what he expected and even more annoying than the stupid trip to get energy drinks. 

And worrying. Very worrying. 

Ryan returned before he could move from where he had frozen in the doorway, removing the bag from his hand and pulling him into a quick hug. 

“What happened, Rye?” 

“We don’t know, exactly. I found him in his office.” 

“Was he attacked?” 

“None of the alarms were tripped. It looks like he fell and hit his head, knocked himself out. Jack called Caleb.” 

“Caleb?” 

“We have no idea how long he was lying there, but at least a day. Better safe than sorry.” 

“We... we left him alone.” 

“We didn’t know this would happen. Couldn’t know.” 

“Do Geoff and Micahel know?” 

“Yeah. I called them. They'll be here soon.” 

. 

. 

. 

Geoff didn’t love interrogations, but it was a necessary evil. 

He was in the middle of one with Michael when the phone rang, breaking the concentration of all three of them. 

The man they were interrogating actually had the gall to look hopeful, as though the interruption to their all-nighter interrogation session was going to save him. 

But Geoff hadn’t spoken to Ryan in a few days, except for the odd text, and was actually looking forward to the call. 

That lasted for a few seconds as Ryan spoke. 

His tone of voice alone as he asked if Geoff was secure to take a call gave him away. Although many would say he sounded calm, Geoff knew better. 

Ryan was panicking. 

“Yeah,” he replied, “just me, Michael and our guest. Speak away.” 

He could see Michael looking up at him, probably just as curious about this oddly timed call. 

“Gavin’s hurt.” 

Geoff almost dropped the phone. 

“What?” he screamed, causing Michael’s eyes to widen and their captive to almost hyperventilate, “How the fuck did that happen? What in the hell Ryan?” 

“I... we don’t know. We only just got back, and he was unconscious in his office. Jack’s called Caleb, but...” 

“Caleb! How serious is it? And what, was it an attack, an accident?” 

“Uh, we don’t know. Looks like he tripped and hit his head.” 

Geoff let his rage die, replaced by worry. 

“Take care of him, we’ll be back home soon, ok love?” 

“Yeah. Keep our guest entertained, maybe give him a message from the rest of us. And Gav did get us the data we need for the heist, so this guy had probably passed useful right now.” 

“I was hoping you’d say that, and thinking along the same lines. Take care of our Gavy for us, love you.” 

“Love you too.” 

He hung up, seeing the fear in Michaels eye at the half of the conversation he’d heard. 

“What happened, is everything ok?” 

“Gavin’s hurt, looks like he took a nasty fall. The others just got home and found him.” 

“Who’re we killing? Who attacked our boyfriend?” 

“It looks like it was an accident.” 

“B... boy... friend. Both of you?” 

They both looked down at their guest and Geoff smiled a predator smile. 

“Yes, Marty, you see, the reason the Fakes are so efficient, the reason we never have to worry about betrayal, is that we’re dating. All six of us. Me, Mogar behind you, the lovely lady Beardo, our ruthless Vagabond, our hot-headed Rimmy Tim and the talented Golden Boy. A group of criminals in love.” 

The man realised too late why he was being given this information and Geoff re-holstered the smoking gun. 

It was time to go home. 

. 

. 

. 

Waiting for Gavin to wake up was a nightmare. 

He was lying in their second bedroom, most often used in situations like this where they were at home but not able to sleep in the main bed due to the medical equipment. 

There was a lot of medical equipment. 

Drips, monitors, Michael didn’t know what half of them did, but they were keeping Gavin alive, or something, so they were necessary. 

Caleb hadn’t had good news for them. The words and phrases bounced around his head. 

Nasty concussion. Lost a lot of blood. Dehydrated. Malnourished. Exhausted. Uphill battle. 

Worried he hasn’t woken up by now. 

In a way, Michael was glad it was Caleb telling them this. Other doctors that sometimes helped were far too scared of giving them bad news, of angering them, but Caleb told it like it was. He couldn’t lash out at their doctor, because he was close enough to them that he couldn’t bring himself to do so. 

Caleb was the crews best for a reason though. He'd ordered them to put Gavin in a car and taken him to the clinic for some brain scans. Gav was back home now, but Caleb was on top of it all. 

Caleb said it was a coma, a 6 on the Glasgow Scale, not that Michael was sure what that meant before it was explained. 

Michael needed Gavin to wake up. 

Everything felt off without him, slanted somehow. 

It wasn’t like they’d never had someone missing for dinner. It wasn’t as if they never had people missing from the bed. It wasn’t as if they’d never had someone in the other bed due to injury before. 

But it had never been like this before. 

There was this emotion in the air, some grief or anger or sadness that was affecting them all. 

They pulled off the heist flawlessly, Gavin’s intel giving them everything they needed, but the excitement was missing. 

Their celebration subdued. 

Because how could they party with Gavin sleeping on one room over. 

They'd still cracked open a beer, the take too large and their enemies too humiliated for them not to, but Geoff left to manage B-team and the clean-up, and Ryan slipped out early on into Gavin’s room. 

Jack joined him not long after. 

Michael and Jeremy cracked open the whiskey instead. 

It’d been almost a month, surely sitting and holding Gav’s hand wasn’t going to do any more or less for him than sitting in the living room and getting drunk. 

So that’s what they did. 

. 

. 

. 

Jack was with Gavin when he began to wake. She hadn’t believed it at first, sure the movement was just her imagination, but something was happening on the machines attached to him, so she called Caleb. 

“He’s beginning to wake up.” Caleb had said with a relieved grin. 

They weren’t out of the woods yet, not with a head injury, but this was one step closer to going back to normal. One step closer to being together again. 

Caleb explained to them all what a minimally conscious state was, how Gavin might be touch and go for a while, sleeping a lot. 

Agitated and confused. 

It felt like everyone was avoiding the idea of amnesia, but Jack wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. 

There was a spark of hope back in their home. 

. 

. 

. 

It took almost a month before Gavin was back on his feet, and he hated it. 

He never had this... this inability before. He felt weak all the time, and the crew were treating him like he was. He needed sleep all the time, and was only just becoming able to stomach larger meals. He loathed the periods where he got so dizzy, he had to sit down or lean against a wall or sometimes even pass out. 

Sure, he enjoyed the cuddles and the being wrapped in blankets, but he couldn’t stand how weak he was. 

Not to mention they wouldn’t leave him alone. 

He was never left alone in the apartment, not for 5 minutes. Hell, they’d invite someone over to ‘hang out with him’ or ‘keep him company’ if they all had to go out. Sure, he didn’t mind spending time with Fiona or Matt or The Twins, but it was getting ridiculous. 

In the end, he brought it up with Caleb. 

“You’re still having dizzy spells?” 

“A few, but they’re far less frequent and less powerful.” 

“Ok, Gavin, well, you’re looking better. I still think you’re going to need to take it easy for a bit, but if you don’t push yourself, you should be back to the full charismatic Golden Boy by Christmas, maybe even a little less time than that. Go easy for a month, see how you feel from there.” 

“Can you tell the others, maybe? Emphasise that I'm fine.” 

“I’m not going to lie to them, if I tell them you’re fine before you are, you could be put in a situation where you’re in more danger. I know you Gavin, you’re not one to think about your own health when you get caught up in things.” 

“No, not that I'm fine as in ready to go back to heists, just that I'm not about to break. They won't leave me in the Penthouse on my own, or let me out without a bodyguard. It's like I'm made of glass, Caleb.” 

“I’ll try, but I'm not sure what I can do. And Gavin, I know you’re recovering, but please remember that there's a chance you won't be able to get back to how you were before. Inj...” 

“Injuries like these can have lasting damage, I know. Thank you, Caleb.” 

. 

. 

. 

Whatever Caleb said, it only helped a little. Geoff, Ryan and Jack were out at a meet, and Jeremy was out with Matt, so it was just him and Michael when they discovered they were out of milk. 

Gavin almost cheered when Michael went out to get some, leaving him at home alone without calling someone to look after him first or bringing him along. 

It wasn’t enough though, he still felt almost trapped in his home. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust him, or anything, he knew that, but they were scared and that made them overprotective. 

He wanted to go out, and he wasn’t going to be stopped. 

. 

. 

. 

His old apartment had gathered a fine layer of dust, and it was missing quite a few of his belongings since he’d moved to the Penthouse, but it was still his home once. 

It'd been a bit of a trek, and a dizzy spell had driven him to get the bus to the neighbourhood rather than walk it all, but he’d managed it. 

He decided to set out cleaning, trying to make it homely again. The tv was on in the background, replaying episodes of antique roadshow. It was fun, and rather therapeutic. 

He was really enjoying rediscovering things he’d left behind, knowing his apartment could be a safehouse at some point. Finding old DVDs and records and pictures. 

There was one of him and Dan that he wanted to bring back with him, put it in his office. 

He found another from when they were first dating, before they lived together, standing at the pier in civilian clothes, grinning into the camera. 

He finished dusting and went for the photo album in the safe. Inside were lots of pictures the others didn’t know he’d made. 

One of them, with Jack on Geoff shoulders, Jeremy on Ryans and himself on Michaels. It had been a great day, with them trying to wrestle each other. 

Another one was a picture taken by Fiona when she’d visited to find them all puppy piled on the living room floor, post heist, having stayed up until 4am night before. As far as the others were aware, she’d deleted it, but Gavin had asked for a copy. 

He had others, that he’d found via security cameras, pictures of the people he loved to catalogue their relationship over the years, and some brilliant pictures from heists. Pictures that showed the power of the crew. 

One of Michael framed by the explosives he’d set, a backdrop of fire and power radiating. 

One of Geoff gun raised with Jack flying past in the jet. 

One of Jack, Ryan, Michael and Jeremy in the Cargo Bob, picking up Fiona and Matt who had been pinned down and trapped during a firefight. 

One of himself and Michael and Ryan during a meet, with them acting as his bodyguards as he negotiated. 

He closed the book and stood leaning on the wall as the world spun and greyed out, and once it settled, he decided he definitely needed a nap. 

There were blankets on the sofa, so that was where he went. 

. 

. 

. 

Jeremy regretted letting Gavin go downstairs. He'd been all ‘just down to see Fiona, Lil J’ and ‘don’t worry love, I'll be back soon’ and Jeremy hadn’t worried at all. Not when he left. 

But he'd been worried about how long Gavin had been gone after a few hours, and had called down to find Gavin had left after their chat. 

That had been 3 hours ago. 

The first thing he did was check to make sure Gavin hadn’t fallen on the stairs, but once he wasn't there, Jeremy checked the security cameras. 

Gavin had left the building. 

Gavin. Weak, fragile Gavin. Gavin who was not better yet, despite his protests. Jeremy wasn’t stupid, he’d seen Gavin stumble, caught him leaning against walls, eyes pressed shut. He'd wrapped his arm around him while he slept on the sofa in the middle of the day, knowing he’d sleep just as soundly that night. 

Gavin was not better yet. 

He could be targeted, attacked by another crew or even a random mugger. Sure, he wasn’t in his Golden Boy garb, he hadn’t been since the accident, but even still, people might go after anyone alone on the street. 

Even some kid in joggers and a hoodie. 

He could be beaten up or stabbed or shot. 

He could be dying in an alley somewhere. 

He could collapse, in the street, with no-one to help him. 

Jeremy didn’t bother to call anyone before rushing out after him, calling Matt to find Gavin. 

It didn’t take long for Matt to get him an address, and then he was on his way, flooring it in hopes of finding Gavin safe and alive and not tied up in someone's basement with a weapon pointed to his head. 

He found Gavin on the sofa, sleeping peacefully under the blankets, with some British woman on TV explaining the past of a vase. 

On the table next to the TV was a picture, one of the six of them, from when they went to the pier. Walking around, there were mugs in the cupboards, a kettle, books and movies, a cushion with the Union Flag on it. 

This was Gavin’s place, before he moved in with them. 

“Jeremy?” 

He spun around, finding Gavin leaning on the doorframe, yawning. 

“Hey Gavy, you ok?” 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I... you’ve been missing for hours, I got worried.” 

To his surprise, Gavin sighed, and turned to go back to the sofa, beckoning for Jeremy to follow, which he did. 

They sat down, and for a few minutes, neither of them said a word. 

“I needed some space. After the accident, you... you all got so... overprotective. You probably didn’t even realise, but you never left me alone, not for 10 minutes. I love you all, I do, but I couldn’t stay there.” 

“Gav? You... you’re not...” 

“I’m not leaving you all, I love you, I'll be home by tonight, but I'm... I don’t... everyone needs space sometimes. Only a few hours.” 

“Oh god, oh Gav I'm so sorry, I didn’t realise.” 

He pulled his arm around Gavin. 

“We were just so worried. It was so scary seeing you like that. It... spooked us, I guess. You were gone for a month, and we didn’t know if we could get you back.” 

He trailed off as realisation sunk in. They'd come so close to losing Gavin, and he’d, they’d, been too scared of losing him to let Gavin out of their sight. He'd probably felt like a prisoner in his own home. 

. 

. 

. 

Caleb was right, Gavin found, and by the end of November into December, he was almost completely better. Still tired a lot of the time and taking extra naps, and the occasional dizzy spells would never fad completely, but he was as better as he could get. Caleb's scans had confirmed it. 

It changed things. The lasting damage meant he was probably never going back into the field for heists, and that his crew was never going to leave him alone for long periods of time, but he was alive, and he had his family, so he could manage it. 

He napped in the afternoons or lay in in the mornings, and found he usually had energy enough to make it through the day. He’d lie down after a dizzy spell, waiting for it to pass, and either someone would bring him water, or he’d get it himself. He cut down on coffee, and on alcohol, on Caleb's suggestion. He stopped driving. 

They were big changes to his lifestyle but, with his caution and their care, life continued on pretty much as normal. 

Mostly. 

They ran the biggest syndicate in Los Santos, they could afford to make the changes. 

Geoff hired some kids called Larry and Ashley to act as their personal driver. He claimed it was because a crew like theirs should have someone to drive them to meets and formal events and whatnot, but Gavin appreciated the gesture. 

They gave him a panic button, covered in gold leaf and embedded with small gems. It was part of a bracelet, and would allow him to contact them if ever he was in trouble, so they didn’t have to coddle him all the time. 

Golden Boy went to a meet, Vagabond and Mogar by his side, and successfully negotiated their newest alliance. 

His office was refurbished, so it was ‘less of a hazard’ and he was checked on far more regularly when he holed himself up to work. 

He found he didn’t mind not going into firefights anymore. He liked being able guide them from afar, keeping an eye on all of them at once and to welcome them home with a grin and a kiss. 

And if they spent their Christmas day celebrating having... re-decorated... the precinct on 5th the night before and watching Muppets Christmas Carol and Die Hard. 

Then everything was wonderful. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the other ending.  
Hope you enjoyed it all, and that maybe you were inspired by it.  
Please R+R.  
And, for curiosity sake, which ending did you prefer?

**Author's Note:**

> I have two plots that follow on from this point already. If you have a suggestion, or want to write your own, you are open to do so.  
I'd love to see where people go with this, along with the next plans I already have,


End file.
